descend lower, descend only
by The Queen's Fabler
Summary: (MCU & TASM) Uncle Ben never died on that fateful night, and Peter never became Spider-Man. AU. Non-linear storytelling. Warning for language, violence, mentions of torture and suicidal thoughts. Formerly "Quoth the Raven Nevermore"
1. Chapter 1

descend lower, descend only

Pain is a constant.

Something that, disturbingly enough, is what Peter is getting used to- and this happened to be something that terrified him greatly.

People avoided pain. Pain is a warning sign that something is not right- abort the mission, back away, let go, run far as you can… but Peter doesn't have that option. There is no escaping, there is no letting go, there was no chance of running away (oh, how wished that was not true).

Pain is his constant- his new normal, his reality. And nothing can change that.

* * *

A/N: The title comes from T.S. Elliot's "Four Quartets 1: Burnt Norton."


	2. Chapter 2

Everything had started off as a stupid mistake on his part. A very, very stupid mistake that was motivated by his thirst to know _more_.

Of course, he had to go and break-in into a locked room in OSCORP, and inevitably find chemically engineered spiders- which leads him getting bitten by one of those said spiders and somehow gain superpowers.

Of course he had to look at his father's things and go search for his parent's past and death- which leads Peter to find Doctor Connors, his father's old colleague. The same colleague whom he gave his father's hidden formula, which, of course, turns him into a psychotic mutant lizard-man who was bent on world domination when he tests the serum on himself.

The old saying "curiosity killed the cat" should have served as a warning to him. He should have listened to the quiet voice in his head that said that this entire thing was a stupid idea, and that he should not go looking for trouble.

The added addition of "satisfaction brought him back" is nice and all- up until the point when shit hits the fan, and he is the one left to pick things up- or in this case, to get kidnapped by a supposedly extinct scientific Nazi group that uses a freakin Greek mythological character as their mascot.

Hindsight is a pretty fantastic thing, especially when you are locked up in a cell and bored to the point of insanity.


	3. Chapter 3

_Subject: Peter Benjamin Parker_

 _Location: Unknown_

 _Date: Unknown_

Peter Parker was cold. Of all the things he seemed to dwell on, this is the one thing he seems to return to the most.

Slumped in the corner of the room, the sharp and bumpy edges of the cement blocks dug into his back. Peter continued to stare listlessly at the grey walls as the fluorescent lights flickered at a random tempo.

The room was bare- plain walls, no windows, cement floors. There was a bed frame bolted to the floor, and a toilet and a sink. Other than a inch thick mattress, there was nothing else to be seen or to be taken note of.

Peter supposed this was not the worst situation to be held captive in (a distant memory from _Before_ popped in his head- no, this wasn't a cave in some Middle Eastern country that was being held by terrorists). He was fed three times a day with what could barely pass as food, and was given time to rest. To be held in this cell was not the worst thing that could happen to him, but when he was forced out of his cell is what terrifies him the most.

But in the end, Peter could not shake off the general chill in the air and it did not only have to do with the temperature. Everything in the faculty was cold- there was no relief from the endless steel and cement blocks that comes in various shades of grey. There was no warmth or comfort to be found in this place, just sharp edges and impersonal touches that drowned out all signs of life.

It was all so cold.

It all seemed so inconsequential. Of all the things Peter could worry about, he chose to fret about the cold. To him, it didn't matter. Peter hated being cold- and if he just focuses on that fact, he can ignore the other terrifying truths that dwell inside his brain.

The fact that Peter felt numb. Or that he does not know how long he had been in this cell, at this faculty. Or the pain- the endless pain (Don'tThinkAboutThatDon'tThinkAboutThat!).

In the end, it was cold- all so _cold_.

Peter had been cold for so long, that he had stopped shivering.

He was too tired to try anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter had always been interested with the concept of "what if?" A question with an open-ended ending, and limitless possibilities for answers.

It was only recently that this interest had become an obsession.

What would have happened if he never found his father's things?

What would have happened if he didn't sneak into OSCORP and break into that room?

What would have happened if he never met Gwen Stacey?

What would have happened if his parents lived?

What would have happened if Uncle Ben died?

A world of endless possibilities. Of different futures, and of different fates.

Peter liked to imagine that all others would be better than his.

 _A/N: Thank you to CoolGalaxyGamer and Mindayy (I loved the pun) for their reviews, and to everyone else who followed or favorited the story._


	5. Chapter 5

_Subject: Peter Benjamin Parker_

 _Location: Unknown_

 _Date: Unknown_

Peter was not sure whether it was day or night when he first heard the rhythmic thumping of boots. It had steadily grew louder and louder, before it had suddenly stopped in front of the door.

(NotAgain)

A beat of silence passed, when Peter heard multiple clicks and faint buzzing. He knew what is to come next.

Barely a second passed, when the door slammed open with a resounding thud. In a synchronized act, that men in black uniforms rushed forward with their guns pointed to all of Peter's vital organs, and with electrical probes glowing. Snapping chains on Peter with practiced ease, they pulled him out of his cell within moments, keen to get him to his destination.

Peter could not help but look longingly in the opposite direction, which had not gone unnoticed by his captors.

One with a heavily scarred face roughly grabbed Peter's hair, pulling it so that he was able to hiss in Peter's ear "You can't ran freak- though I'd love to see your ass to go boom."

The collar that sits on Peter's neck for some time feels uncomfortably tight- no, he dare not escape (ThoughMaybeSoon?)

Peter was jostled down a familiar path, and eventually shoved into a blindingly white room. Covered with chrome and cutting instruments, the room constantly reminded Peter of the surgical amphitheaters that are shown on television shows. But instead of it being filled with bustling doctors or nurses, there was a lone figure dressed in a crisp three-piece suit.

The man was a familiar face. That being said, he was also very handsome; with his thick dark hair, aristocratic features, and unbelievably white teeth. And yet the entire illusion is quickly ruined, by the cruel smile that sits on his face.

When Peter had met him for the first time, he insisted that Peter call him Al. Peter chooses to call him more colourful names, which certainly would have Aunt May gasping in shock and promptly washing his mouth out with soap.

"Good morning Peter!"

"Well, it's a good morning somewhere."

Al tossed his head back in raucous laughter- as though Peter told him the world's most funniest joke. This overreaction is something that Peter comes to expect from the man. Al had always acted as though each flouncy action would be enough to hide his lurking darkness that exists beneath his skin.

It wasn't.

"I am always so glad when you can join us. Things are certainly less dull when you are around. Your humor is always a welcome addition to the day," said Al, as he tossed off another toothy grin.

"Well, it wasn't if I had a choice."

Al let out another smile. This time it was not filled with false carefreeness, but a plastic one instead. He had a mad glint in his eyes.

It was without warning, that Al reached forward and cupped Peter's face in a loving fashion. His mouth had quickly morphed into an expression of true joy- a wide toothy smile that had crinkled his eyes and set them alight.

"You certainly are my favourite monster."

A beat of silence, and than things changed. As though a switched had been flipped, Al's face hardened.

"Get him to the table!"

Peter tried to struggle against his bounds and captors, trying to get free (HeWon'tHeWon'tHeWon't). He felt a jolt of excruciating pain as he was electrocuted. They kept the prob on him until he fell to his knees, panting in pain.

He rather felt, than saw, Al clicking his tongue in disapproval, "Now, now Peter. You mustn't start that now- we have a long day ahead of us."

(NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo)

Peter must have spoken his thoughts, because Al gave a rueful grin and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Hush now my little spider, there is no point."

The pit of Peter's stomach was filled with dread.

(NotAgain)

.

.

.

.

.

.

At first, there was silence.

And then, there were screams.

A/N: I am sorry that this took so long to get out, but real life took over and I spent a lot of time editing this thing. I really wanted the chapter to come out right.

Thank you all those who followed/favorited the story. And thank you to Xen84, Guest, meggs929 and consultingsorcererof221B for their reviews!


	6. Chapter 6

Escaping was not an option.

It never was.

The first time he tried to escape from his prison, he ended up being knocked out and woke up with a bomb strapped to his neck.

The event had taken place moments mere hours (or was it days?) after he was abducted from the streets of New York.

And all of it was done to ask a question.

Terrified that they force him to answer and the consequences should he talk, Peter had tried to run. He must have shown some superhuman ability, or otherwise Peter would not have found himself with a new accessory. Peter's collar was fitted tightly onto his neck, and he was given four very important rules that he must remember.

Should he try to leave the compound- _boom._

Should he move without an escort- _boom._

Should he try to harm anyone of importance- _boom_.

Should he piss them off- _boom_.

Yet, it did not end there.

HYDRA was a lot of things, but being stupid was not one of them. The moment they realized that they had a super powered teenager on their hands, they used it to their full advantage.

Clamoring about how much _potential_ he had, the continued twittering about scientific research, and the good of all mankind, Peter knew was stuck. And that was without the existence of question in the mix.

It had became horribly clear that escaping alive was not an option. Death on the other hand, however, remained a viable option.

Peter had long lost his will to live. To continue living in his prison was impossible- Peter feels himself slowly cracking and falling apart under HYDRA's loving hand. To tear him apart and to rebuild him to their masterpiece, their monster. (ButYouAlreadyKnowHowToBeAMonster-Don'tYou?)

The urge to end it all is constantly there in the back of his mind, popping up during his darkest hours.

And it is an urge that keeps growing.

Some days, Peter fantasies running off to the sunset and to just going-

 _-boom._

To disappear in a wave fine red mist. The only sign of life being rust coloured stains and a janitor's cursing words as he labours away.

A final sign of protest.

Because seriously, blood is a bitch to get off of clothing.

Even though Peter's mind drift to such grim thoughts, he knew that he would never do it. A fact that does not have anything to do with Peter's will to live. Nothing like that at all.

Peter had long accepted the fact that he will die. Not today, and possibly not tomorrow- but something that will inevitably will happen in the end of all things. Death is the unknown, but it would be peaceful. No more human torment- no guilt or worries (NoMorePain).

Peter is more than ready for death's all consuming embrace.

But Peter must be freed first.

Because _they_ wouldn't know what had happened to him.

Not Gwen. Not Aunt May. Not Uncle Ben.

A boy who disappeared without a trace and without a ripple. And they would be waiting their entire lives to find the answer or a body to bury- that is something that Peter could not live with (no matter how short his life would be).

Peter already has enough guilt to deal with.

* * *

A/N: Funny story- this was not originally meant to be chapter 6. I actually had another chapter that I was working on until I realized that I need this chapter to address certain plot points and to set certain things up.

Thank you to meggs929, consultingsorcererof221B, Yourtypicalhero and Xen84 for their great reviews! And thank you to everyone that favourited or followed the story!

Yourtypicalhero: He doesn't :3 Mwahaha

Until next time!


	7. Chapter 7

_Subject: Peter Benjamin Parker_

 _Location: Unknown_

 _Date: Unknown_

If there is one thing that can always be counted on in prisons, is the fact that there is a rigid routine that must be followed. This happens to be a thing that prisoners, more often than not, have to endure without question. This partly has to do with the fact that there's not much else to do anyways- the second part has to do with the small fact that the prisoner's very survival is based on the whims of their captor. For those reasons alone, they are left to follow.

Needlessly said, Peter always knew what to expect.

He knew that he would be getting three meals a day (even if the food is revolting).

He knew that he would always have a place to sleep (despite the fact that the nights are freezing and concrete is more comfortable than the mattress).

He knew that he would have quality time with the scientists (lasers, pliers, and blades, oh my!)

He knew that there would be an enduring silence from his guards as well (that is not so bad as one would think- Einsteins they are not).

And the list goes on.

He knew.

He knew.

He knew.

Peter always knew.

That was, for him, the most torturous thing possible.

Every day was deja vu, and the days had begun to bleed together. Today is yesterday, tomorrow and the day after that. Day after day, it was all the same.

It was not long before he lost all sense of time.

It was horrid normalcy at its worst. Peter was losing his sanity in the endless mindlessness of his very own existence.

Not even the physical wounds that were inflicted on him had the same impact as the ones which were the product of his own mind. Locked in his cell for days on end (LikeABrokenAndForgottenToy-NoOneWantsToPlayWithHim), the outside world seemed like a distant dream. The same thoughts constantly circle around in his head, nothing to break the monotony.

Idleness was his greatest enemy, allowing his dark thoughts to take him over completely. He was lost. Lost in his own mind

(AndForeverGone).

Yet, it was a day, like any other day, when everything had changed.

Peter was lying upon his cot when he first heard shuffling and clanking of chains. It was soon accompanied by an indistinct grumble of voices, and the irritating buzz of a taser. A door slamming shut.

Then he heard something very unfamiliar.

It felt as though Peter's heart had dropped into his stomach. Sitting up so quickly, that he gave himself whiplash- his eyes' had widened in utter disbelief and his mouth gaping like a codfish, he stared at the wall next to his bed.

A quiet, but very feminine voice had cried out, "You can't keep me here!"

A day like any other- but a day so utterly unique.

Peter had gotten himself a neighbour.

* * *

A/N- Look- a plot! Or kinda. So sorry that this took forever- I have a long and extensive reason why it took so long, but I'll give you the short from; life happened.

Thank you to Cashagon, meggs929, Guest of honor, MarvelSpiderMan, Nerdyicesk8ter, greece60, and Guest for their reviews- they seriously made my day.

And thank you to everyone else who either favourited or followed the story- especially if you did both :3

Cashagon: Who said he does? Mwahaha

Please review and let me know what you think of the chapter,

-Fabler.


	8. Chapter 8

How is a boy able to disappear so quickly, so completely? And all without a trace?

Well, it was rather easy. A combination of both precise planning, and unfortunate external events had made it all possible.

They came for him on a bright sunny day, just days after the Lizard Incident (as the media like to call it). Cleanup was still struggling on, and as a result of that, it blocked many roads, making travel impossible. HYDRA had plucked him right off his skateboard before stuffing him in the back of a nondescript van. A hefty dose of tranquilizers was given (multiple times) and Peter had fallen into oblivion. And just like that- he was gone.

.

.

.

.

To the police, he was a runaway.

It doesn't matter that the girlfriend had reported that the boy was heading home after their date. Or how the aunt pleaded her nephew was a good boy and it was not in his character to do this. Or how the uncle said the kid had too much going for him and he would not leave it all behind.

It just does not matter.

Because seriously, they were just too busy to deal with this bullshit.

Just a few days prior, some maniac had tried to turn the New York into a crappy Jurassic World remake. Only to be stopped by some other masked freak who had yet to resurface.

It is not like he is not the only person to be missing. And there is the fact that during the mass exodus from Midtown, some people had taken advantage of the situation and decided breaking in would be a good pastime.

It did not help that Peter Parker known to be trouble at school, and while brilliant, he was not that dedicated in doing his schoolwork. There was also the fact that many neighbors had noted that the boy was having a "rebellious" phase and was not often at home anyways (arguments, they whispered- cold shoulders, they muttered).

It did not take long for them to move on to more interesting and pressing assignments. The case was left alone, underneath a large pile of paperwork. The trail had long since had gotten gone cold.

And Peter Parker was forgotten.

.

.

.

.

No one was looking for him.

No one gave a shit.

And it stayed that way for a very long time.

.

.

.

.

 _By the time people people started to remember him, well, let just say they wished that they never have forgotten at all._

* * *

A/N- So, this chapter did not take as long as the last one (throws confetti). I'd say that I would try to write more often, but I'm in university and I work part-time, so the chances are that it won't be happening.

Fantastic news (for me, at least)- for this story, I have gotten 51 followers and 23 favourites! Which I have to say is completely mind-blowing.

Thank you to Guest, Cashagon, Guest, Guest of Honor, and youngjusticefanatic for their reviews! It's great to see people are seriously enjoying the story, which is seriously great for my ego (hint, hint). Also, a big thanks for everyone who followed or favourited the story!

Till next time!


	9. Chapter 9

_Subject: Peter Benjamin Parker_

 _Location: Unknown_

 _Date: Unknown_

Peter has never felt more tongue-tied in his entire life than in this instance.

Not when he had to say a speech in front of his class for a presentation. Or the time with that disastrous book report. Not even when he asked Gwen Stacy out first the very first time (okay, that's a lie- they are about the same).

There was a person in the cell next to him. A _person._

Peter felt awful for being so happy. He felt awful for not to be able to do anything but sit there and listen to the woman's cries- just because he can not get over the fact that there was someone else here with him.

The sounds of gasping sobs and jagged breaths continued to echo in his cell, but the pounding slaps had finally slowed down.

Peter carefully sat up in his cot, and turned to lean against the rugged wall. He pressed his ear to the cold material, and could not help but feel guilty for listening in at her pain. Peter took a deep shuddering breath, and quietly spoke.

"H-hi."

Silence.

A very long silence.

Peter had thought that she had not heard him when he heard a tentative, "Hello?"

Peter froze, his mouth hanging open. It felt like someone had poured bleach into his brain- what should he _say_? His social skills were already lacking even before he had gotten himself locked in this place. The several months (is it still even months? Or has he reached years yet?) he spent in isolation has not helped with his situation whatsoever.

Walls never are great conversationalists. A fact that he knows really, really well.

Before the awkward silence could get any worse, he blurted the first thing that came to his mind: "How are you?"

Instantly, Peter wanted to slap himself- ' _how are you?'_ Of all the things he could have said, he went with ' _how are you?_ ' Seriously. Palm, face, meet.

To Peter's immense relief, he heard a watery chuckle. "I could be better."

Peter let out a deep sigh, "Yeah- ah, sorry about that. Stupid question."

"No, it's okay. Being treated like a human at least once today is actually quite nice."

"I am guessing this is not how you planned your day to go."

Peter heard another small laugh. He took it as a good sign, even if it had a slight hysterical tinge to it, "You guessed that right- this is not how I planned my day to go. If I had known that paying my bills would led me here, I would've stayed underneath the covers."

"Mmmhmm- avoiding this place would be optimal," quipped Peter.

"True that," hummed the female voice.

There was yet another long pause, but it had none of the awkwardness from before. Peter pulled on a thread from his shirt, thinking about what he should say next, when it came to him.

"Since we both are having awful day right now, I feel like I should introduce myself. Hi, my name is Peter Parker."

Another quiet laugh, "My name is Beth. Beth Johnson."

A wry grin grew on his face.

And for the first time in a very long time, Peter did not feel quite so alone.

* * *

A/N- Sorry that I took so long to update- but real life does not like me. The first proof of this is my numerous final exams/papers, and the second being that I actually got appendicitis last week and had to get surgery for it. Yeah, not how I planned for my day to go- or my month either.

Anyways, I finally give you guys not-so-angsty chapter. I never realised not much of a downer I am until I started writing this story. I don't think I've been called 'evil' so much before- I have to admit that I kinda love it..

Virtual gold star to anyone who knows which MCU film that Beth (no last name) was in. It was a small role- however it would have been bigger if they haven't deleted a couple of scenes that had her in it.

Thank you to anyone who followed or favourited the story. And a special thanks to Guest of honor, samhoffman90, Cashagon, P, youngjusticefanatic for reviewing!

Until next time


	10. Chapter 10

Once upon a time, Peter had cared.

He cared so much that his heart had ached with the weight of it all. It was too much, all too much. And Peter was almost crushed by it.

He could not stand it.

He just wanted to rip his own heart out. To no longer feel, to no longer care. Until he was left with absolutely nothing.

To achieve absolute apathy. (TheCeaselessAbyss).

No emotion.

No passion.

No concern.

Peter was able to find comfort in it. To being lost in the nothingness of it all. And he was content for some time.

But, that was all before he met Beth.

And it all came rushing back to him.

* * *

A/N- Thanks to all who followed and favourited the story, and especially to Guest of honor, consultingsorcererof221B, and Cashagon for their wonderful reviews- they make writing this story all the more worthwhile. Cheers.


	11. Chapter 11

Monster.

Peter never really gave much thought to the word.

A monster was… well, a monster. It was a bad thing that appeared in fairy tales. It was an adversary, that serves as an obstacle for the gallant hero. The monster was often chained, killed, or banished to some distant land.

Peter sometimes wished that he did. If he did, maybe he would have learnt that a monster does not need fang, fur or claws to be truly evil. That humans are more than capable of being beasts themselves.

But he didn't- he just didn't, and that will be something that will haunt him until the end of his days.

What Peter didn't learn (not until the end) was that he would become a monster himself.

.

.

.

Peter did not mean for his Uncle Ben to get hurt- but he… he was just so _angry_.

Angry at the fact that his parents left him all alone, dying in a plane crash. Angry at the fact Uncle Ben and Aunt May were simply not his parents. Just angry at the whole goddamned world that took everything that was good in his life.

He was angry at the fact that, out of everyone in the world, why was it him that had to grow up without parents- to be an orphan.

Peter just wanted to know them- to stop them from being blank slates in his mind, constantly wondering whether they would be proud of him or not. All he had were vague memories of his parents that were filled with hazy warmth, and half-forgotten memorabilia that were gathering dust in the basement.

So, Peter searched, and searched and he found Dr. Connors- a man who knew his father. Peter was deliriously happy, finally feeling close to the unknown figure.

When Uncle Ben had come, poking holes in his happiness- and Peter just became so furious. He allowed himself to become so disillusioned, so angry, so vindictive that he lashed out- spewing out venomous words to the only family that he had.

Peter stormed out. Uncle Ben followed him.

And Uncle Ben got hurt. Really, really bad.

And Peter could have stopped it.

But he didn't.

Instead, he allowed the thief to walk away, in an act of petty revenge against the store clerk.

Peter had allowed his Uncle Ben to get hurt.

(OhGodOhGodOhGod).

.

.

.

It was then that Peter knew. He knew that, in the deepest, darkest part of his soul, he would never be a hero that his Uncle wanted him to be. He was always the screw up, a freak.

A monster.

And _nothing_ will ever change that.

* * *

A/N: So….hi? Sorry for disappearing for a while, but real life seriously hindered my writing time/inspiration. But seeing how school has recently finished, I got this out. I have to say though, seeing _Captain America: Civil War_ has also helped to kick my writing into gear- while I think it goes without saying, I might as well mention that I am completely ignoring the MCU's Spider-Man (though Tom Holland did an awesome job in the movie- I literally was bursting out laughing whenever he was on screen).

Thank you to all who has followed and/or favourited my story- it's ridiculously humbling to see how many people are enjoying my story. And special thanks to Guest of Honor, Cashagon, sparrowsmelody, and Update2soon for their reviews!

Before I forget- in chapter 9, I asked if anyone knew which film that Beth was originally in. Kudos (and virtual gold star) goes to Cashagon who wisely used google and discovered that Beth was in the first _Avengers_ film. If you didn't notice her, don't feel too bad- majority of the actresses scenes were cut, (though you can find them on YouTube).

Until next time!


	12. Chapter 12

_Subject: Peter Benjamin Parker_

 _Location: Unknown_

 _Date: Unknown_

Peter was humming tunelessly in his cell when he had a rather startling realization. Against all odds, he, Peter Parker, had become somewhat content in this hellhole.

And that was… well, it was insane. Certifiably insane. It had the added benefit of being unfortunately true as well.

It had not always been this way. Peter had spent the first few days/weeks/months of his captivity raging against his captors, doing everything he could to thwart them and to be a general nuisance. Their punishment to him, in return, was very harsh as well as very painful (Stop!Stop!Stop!). Peter had expected that the only reason why the guards had not pulled him outside to kill him and to dump his body in an unmarked grave has to do with the fact that he was still considered useful to their cause. That, and management would have made their outrage well known (painfully and permanently).

But in the end, it still did not even matter. Whatever he did was simply brushed off, and they had continued in their tasks, undeterred. Peter had fought for so long and so hard- only to find out that it did not to matter in the long run.

And it was exhausting.

Utterly exhausting.

Without even realising it, Peter had given up. He stopped fighting, he stopped caring. He had fell into a comfortable state of numbness, watching the world happen around him but doing nothing to _stop_ it, or to even _change_ it.

(GoneGoneGone).

Peter Parker had become a passive observer in his own life.

And he stayed there for a very, _very_ long long time.

Peter stared at his hands.

He was not even sure if he had even stopped.

* * *

A/N- Hello again. I might as well point out the obvious and say that I decided to change the title of the story. This has to do with the fact that I felt "Quoth the Raven Nevermore" didn't quite fit the story anymore. The new title is actually borrowed from T.S. Elliot's poem "Four Quartets 1: Burnt Norton." Hopefully you guys don't object to it too much.

That being said, thank you to everyone who had favourited/followed the story! And special thanks to Update2soon, Guest of honor, opukata, and Elanor20100 for their reviews!

Update2soon: I'm glad you're enjoying the story! To answer your question, yes, I plan to introduce the POV of other characters. I actually already have one chapter planned and it is in the perspective of someone from the Avengers- however, it won't be posted for some time but I do hope that you will enjoy it.

Guest of honor: Please don't be sad! I promise things will get better for Peter soon enough (though how it gets better probably isn't in the way you expected it to be)

Until next time!


	13. Chapter 13

Peter had always hated hospitals.

Everything from the impersonal nature of the hallways and the rooms, the loud beeps of machinery, the constant hum of noise from both patients and hospital employees to the artificial smell of chemicals in the air had Peter fighting the urge to run.

Last time he was in a hospital was when he had been twelve- Peter had crashed his skateboard into a street barrier when he tried to avoid a swerving car. He ended up breaking his arm in two places, and was promptly rushed to the emergency room. While he only had spent a few hours there, and Peter hated every moment of it. Since then, he had done everything in his power to avoid it.

However, it would only be fours years later that Peter finds himself in the hospital once again. Only this time it was not for himself.

.

.

The fact that Uncle Ben made it to the hospital at all as a miracles in itself. Like a half forgotten dream, Peter remembers kneeling on the ground next to his uncle with his shaking hands pressed tightly against his chest (OhGodTheBloodTheBlood). Vision blurred, Peter babbled to Uncle Ben to _stay awake_ and _please don't go_ and screaming to anyone, _everyone_ to call 911 and help him. It felt like forever before the paramedics arrived, and even longer before they started moving him into the ambulance.

Peter climbed onto the vehicle only to be promptly forgotten. Shoved into a corned, medical jargon flew over his head as they attempted to keep Uncle Ben alive. The only medical knowledge Peter had known came from television, but even he knew that shrilling alarms was not a good thing. When they finally arrived to the hospital, Uncle Ben was promptly rushed to surgery and Peter was left behind. It was not long before the police showed up to ask questions- Peter did not remember what he told them, but he would never forget accusatory tone in their voices. They were gone within minutes, leaving behind false promises and forced sympathy.

Peter could have stood there forever, if it were not for the nurse shooing him to out of the emergency room. It was in a fit of compassion that the same nurse promised to call Aunt May for him before scurrying away.

Peter sat down in the waiting room in his blood stained clothes.

He was alone.

And his hands would not stop shaking.

(WhatHaveIDone?)

.

.

Uncle Ben looked small in his bed.

Curled into uncomfortable hospital chair, Peter watched the ventilator forcing his uncle to breath while listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

At first, Aunt May was a constant presence. Looking wane and frazzled, her hands would grip Uncle Ben tight, eyes glittering with unshed tears. Some days she would patter on with neighbourhood gossip or recipes- anything to fill the silence. But other days, Aunt May would sit there silently, shoulders hunched with the weight of the world upon her.

It did not stay that way for long.

When it was declared that Uncle Ben was on the road to recovery, Aunt May had returned to work. Bills had to be paid, and their insurance could only cover so much- there would only be more debt with Uncle Ben's medical bills. It was not before long that Aunt May had begun to pick up extra shifts. It had become increasingly rare to see her at home, seeing how she was either at work or at the hospital and only to return to get some sleep.

Peter had stayed around the hospital for a week before returning to school.

"He wouldn't want you to stop living because he got hurt," Aunt May said with her hand curled tightly around his, "School is important to him."

So Peter went- avoiding well-wishers like a plague, going through the motions before returning the hospital to sit at Uncle Ben's side.

Just like today.

Peter sat in silence, his homework lay forgotten on his lap. He found every beep, and every hiss reminding him that Uncle Ben had survived.

Uncle Ben is alive.

 _Alive._

.

.

That solace never lasted long.

When Peter was alone at night, dark thoughts would emerge. Any relief he had at Uncle Ben's survival would slip through his fingers like smoke, and overwhelming guilt would consume him instead.

 _He did this._

It was his fault that Uncle Ben looked so small and pale. It was his fault that his uncle was near death's door. It was his fault that Aunt May works all hours, never making enough. It was his fault that the bills are piling up and despite whatever they do, there would never be enough.

 _He did this._

 _He did this._

 _He did this._

And Peter will never forget it.

* * *

 _A/N: Surprise? Sorry for disappearing for 6 months… lots of stuff happened and this sorta ended up being forgotten. What happened? Well, a family member ended up going to the hospital as I was writing this chapter (oh, the irony). Thankfully, they are much better now and this entire situation really just reinforced how much I hate hospitals._

 _That said, it should be noted that I am not a doctor nor do I hold any medical knowledge beyond what I learn from TV, internet, or my own visits to the hospital (patient or visitor)- so please excuse any medical discrepancies in this story._

 _Thank you to everyone who had favourited/followed the story! And special thanks to_ _opukata,_ _Guest of honor,_ _greece60, Nerdyicesk8er Update2soon_ _,_ _Excited reader,_ _HetaliaIShipIt_ _and lilyblaney for their reviews!_


	14. Chapter 14

_Subject: Peter Benjamin Parker_

 _Location: Unknown_

 _Date: Unknown_

Peter could not get over the newness of being able to speak to Beth.

It was an impossible reprieve in this hellish life, and it was a gift that Peter never knew that he needed until it was given to him. It was so surprising how it took another person to remind him that Peter was a living, breathing human being- one who once had hopes and dreams- before he had became a plaything, a test subject.

He was a person again.

Before Beth had come into his life, silence had been a constant companion- for better or for worse. This had all changed with his introduction to Beth. Peter had been locked inside his mind for so long, the sudden relief of finally having someone almost made him weep.

And when Peter and Beth had started talking, they never stopped.

Peter would talk about physics, chemistry, biology- anything and everything that popped into his head would come tumbling out of his mouth. Peter would spend hours rambling about the mysteries and certainties of the universe, talking himself hoarse- until he could speak no more.

Beth would talk about art, history and various cultures around the world- in moments of silence she would spout out little factoids that would both amuse and bemuse him. At times, Beth sometimes sang lullabies or hummed familiar tunes.

They did anything to kill the silence.

They never really spoke about themselves- not about friends, not about family, and especially not about their past. Peter knew it was intentional on his part- it was too painful to think about, let alone speak. He had a feeling that it was the same for Beth as well.

And it was good.

Until it wasn't.

* * *

 _A/N- Yeah, I know I suck. I have been really busy since I last posted (work, school, other responsibilities, etc.) Either ways, I do hope you guys do enjoy this chapter._

 _Thank you to Tiredandlazy, lilyblaney, Alatariel-Galadriel, and Update2soon for their lovely reviews. Also, thank you to anyone who had favourited or followed the story._


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